Friday, 7 May 2004

Whose Precious Blood and Future is Not Yet Shed

This poem was written by Rosemarie Dietz Slavenas, whose son First Lt. Brian Slavenas was killed in Iraq on November 2, 2003 when the Chinook helicopter he was piloting was shot down in Falluja.

When I see the blood of my beloved son Running out on desert sand Before help arrived, too late.

There he lay for half an hour Helicopter shot down in Iraq, Where, for reasons of conscience, He had sought not to be.

When I see red, I see an ever widening pool of Brian's precious blood I am blinded with grief never felt before.

He calls to me, Mother! Why did you let me come to this? I, whose heart beat a rapid rhythm Against your ribs?

Why did you stand and say good-bye? Why did you not cry, No! Don't go! And keep me from danger As you did when I was small? Why did you stand and watch me go? And fiddle while Baghdad was bombed? Did you think some other child Would die, not I?

My future was traded for oil Now used to bribe lost allies Too honorable for reckless slaughter. God draws no line in the sand.

My blood was shed by heedless men Hate-filled, who cast aside the UN, Old allies, and the world's good will To rush to cruel war.

You weep too late, dear Mother! Light a candle for the son or daughter Whose precious blood and future Is not yet shed.

Pray for peace and deliverance from Lying leaders fighting terror with terror Let justice roll down like waters And wash this evil from our land.